The Annual Staff Christmas Party
by Jess the Great
Summary: Rated for language... It's that time of year again, and Snape can't remember why he hates it so much until he remembers about the Annual Staff Christmas Party. Slash HPSS


**Title:** The Annual Staff Christmas Party  
**Pairing:** Snape/Harry (hints of Snape/Sinistra)  
**Rating:** R (For language)  
**Disclaimer:** HP doesn't belong to me  
**Notes:** This is my attempt to overcome writer's block. It seemed to have worked.  
**Warnings:** Alcohol usage to the fullest, language and weird couplings  
**Summary:** It's that time of year again, and Snape can't remember why he hates it so much until he remembers about the Annual Staff Christmas Party.  
**Category(s):** Humour, Romance

* * *

Severus Snape always knew there was a reason he didn't like Christmas. Well, besides the overall cheerfulness and happiness that seemed to just radiate the halls of Hogwarts starting in the beginning of December, he knew there was something else that just seemed to irk him into being an even (gasp) more of a bastard than usual. This happened every year he taught at Hogwarts so far counting (Eighteen, if anyone is), and every year he had to remember why he hated Christmas so much. Call it old age, but there he sat one day during one of his many classes and tried to think of what just ticked him off that badly.

Sure, there was the constant wavering of attention spans from the students in all of his classes, but that was to be expected. Hell, even he didn't want to be here in the dank dungeons when he could be somewhere else like...

His dank dungeons.

God, his life was pathetic. Anyway.

He already ticked off the blatant happiness that oozed from everyone that would annoy anyone of his... stature. So he came to his next conclusion. The holidays were all about spending time with your loved ones and family members, right? Well, Snape had neither loved ones nor family members he cared to remember. Snape was going to be alone again for the holidays. Alone in his lonely, miserable, dank dungeons.

But that was a bit too melodramatic for him, so he crossed that one out the minute he wrote it down on the parchment where he kept his list (which happened to be on the back of a fourth year essay, but what did it matter?).

Then of course, there was the music. Merlin, Snape hated Christmas music. It was inane and downright annoying that would be stuck in his head many weeks after the holidays had even ended. But music alone couldn't ruin his alone time that much, anyway. After all, Snape himself was a musical man and knew several instruments.

But then it came to him. In a flash memory of a pissed McGonagall and Dumbledore, arms slung around each other and bellowing out their drunken version of "God rest ye merry gentlemen" at the...

Oh, dear lord. The Annual Staff Christmas Party. The one he made sure he'd get so drunk at so he wouldn't have to remember it next year and go through the torture of the horrible anticipation leading up to it. Snape buried his head in his hands and tried with all of his might not to remember the past parties that Dumbledore held and had it mandatory that all staff members attend. But the memories came flooding back to him like a tidal wave of red, green and firewhisky.

The mundane drinking games... Twister... Spin the Bottle... the karaoke machine... the dance competition... Truth or Dare...Never Have I Ever...

He knew there was a reason why he drunk himself into oblivion every time he went. And then he remembered something that made his head drop out of his hands and thud onto his desk.

Potter was going to be there.

* * *

It was just Snape's luck in that very evening Dumbledore handed out the flyers for the party. Naturally, it didn't say that you had to go, but it was common knowledge that if you didn't, you would be dragged there... as Snape painfully remembered having done so by a very smashed drunk Hagrid about six years ago.

Potter, of course, had no idea.

"A Christmas party? That sounds fun," he said thoughtfully, looking at the flyer in interest. "I didn't even know that the staff held one."

Snape snorted and didn't even bother to tell him about the atrocities that were bound to happen. After all, it was the brat's own fault that he came back to teach in all of his Gryffindor, cocky, repulsively sexiness.

Oh, not that it matters much to this story plot, but Snape suddenly found himself lusting after the Potter boy the moment he stepped into the staff lounge on his first day back. Nope, doesn't matter one little bit.

Potter's lips quirked a little upward, as he gave Snape a weird glance. "So Professor Snape, will you be at the party?"

Snape of course, sneered at him while his cock jumped up to listen to the conversation. "Of course Potter, it's mandatory."

Potter blinked at him owlishly and scanned the flyer again. "It doesn't say anything about it being mandatory."

"Oh, it's there. In very fine"- drunken- "print". There was a deadpanned glare set onto Snape's face.

Potter cocked an eyebrow at him, shrugged, and returned to his meal while idly scanning the flyer again, possibly even looking for the fine print.

Dumbledore decided then to peak his long, crooked, meddling nose into their dying conversation. "So then are you to be joining us at the festivities, professors?"

"As if I have a choice?" Snape mumbled, but spoke up a little louder, "Yes, I will be attending."

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled in amusement, and turned to Potter for his answer.

"Yes, I'd love to." Potter said with a charming grin.

"Fabulous!" Dumbledore exclaimed, simply chuffed to bits, and went off to ask other teachers.

Snape groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose, and Potter looked at him quizzically.

"What was that look for?" He asked.

Snape allowed himself a flash of a small, evil smirk. "Oh, you'll see."

* * *

And see Potter did. Much more he ever wanted to of some of the older Professors during their game of "strip poker".

Snape had to hold back bile, and whether it was because of Trelawney's participation in the game that she was indeed loosing or because this was his eighth Screwdriver he was drinking, he couldn't tell.

Potter, on the other hand, was having a fabulous time. Even though the only articles of clothing he had left on was his under shirt, boxers and glasses, he still laughed merrily every time he lost a hand or just in an overall drunken manner.

Well, at least the night was half over. The karaoke machine was thankfully already put away, the Twister map and spinner lay on the floor forgotten, and Hooch already sat there with a piece of parchment certifying that she was indeed, the Dancing Queen.

It was here and then that Dumbledore announced that they were to play Never Have I Ever; which was always followed up by a not-too-sober version of Spin the Bottle.

Snape groaned. He hated, hated this game... he didn't want anyone finding out any information he did not want to give. But at this stage of the party, after a grand total of five whisky shots, six tequila shots (taken with Professor Sinistra), eight Screwdrivers and two beers, he was ready to do and say whatever it took to get him out of the party and pass out into his own bed.

So Dumbledore and the rest of the staff got dressed, and he started after explaining the rules. "For those who do not know the game of Never Have I Ever, let me take the time to explain it. It is, for argument's sake, played with an alcoholic beverage in hand. The object of the game is to find out as much information you could about the other players, in a drunken sort of way." Dumbledore chuckled to himself and continued, "The rules is that everyone sits in a circle and a person says a fact like so, 'Never have I ever kissed someone'. Every person in the circle who has kissed someone must take a gulp of their drink, and then the person to the left of that player asks another question; naturally, the longer the game, the more... interesting the questions get. Does everyone understand? Wonderful."

He cleared his throat and took a sip of his Mai Tai and began the game. "Never have I ever flunked a semester of the class that I now teach."

Professors Vector, Sinistra, Potter and O'Brien (the new Muggle Studies teacher) all took a gulp of their drinks.

And so it began.

Snape found out things he never cared to know and wish he didn't hear. Like that Dumbledore has had sex within the past two years, Hooch has never had sex with a wizard, O'Brien has gone off on porn before and that Sprout has had more than three spouses in her life.

And then it came to be Potter's turn.

'Great, one more person then my turn.' Snape thought as he tried not to stare at Potter's flushed cheeks that perfectly complimented his tan skin.

Potter smirked (Looking all the more sexy- not that Snape noticed) and said, "Never have I ever seriously kissed a member of the same sex."

Oh, shit.

And one by one they fell. First was Hooch, who took a long enough gulp of her Corona that would have done Hagrid proud, and then went a very, very shy McGonagall who tried to look nonchalant as she quickly shot down some white wine, and Dumbledore calmly took a sip of his still half full Mai Tai.

Potter grinned again and took a sip just as big as Hooch did, and then stared at Snape.

Snape stared right back at him, and took a gulp of his drink with a look of defiance in his challenging eyes.

* * *

"Well, that was fun." Dumbledore said with a glazed sort of sparkle in his eye. "But I do believe before everyone leaves, there is still yet one game to play."

Some of the professors groaned and others cheered. Potter and O'Brien (the rookies of that year) just looked confused.

Snape was one of the many professors that groaned... it was indeed, time for Spin the Bottle.

It wasn't the fact that he might have to kiss a man who could be his Great Grandfather, nor that he could end up kissing one of his old professors or a half-giant, it was the fact that if it ever wound up him kissing Potter, the brat would know for certain of his feelings for him...

Not that he had any feelings for the boy, just potential feelings, you know, they might be there, they might not or he just might be-

Too drunk to even care.

"Severus, I believe since Professor Potter ended the game, you must start this one." Dumbledore said, as he gently pushed the empty bottle of Jack Daniel's towards him.

Snape, being Snape, made an argument out of it. "Honestly Headmaster, how old are we?"

"I, my boy, am turning 163 this coming April, and know myself you turned 43 this November." His eyes were still in that drunken twinkling stage.

Snape growled, knowing he couldn't win in a drunken argument with Dumbledore, and spun the bottle.

Binns, Sinistra, Hagrid, Hooch, McGonagall, Dumbledore, Sprout, Pomfrey, Flitwick, Potter, himself, Vector, Trelawney, O'Brien, Filch, Pince... he watched painfully as the bottle finally stopped on Sinistra.

Eh. 'Could have been worse.

She looked at the bottle, then at him with a shocked expression. Snape rolled his eyes, reached across the circle and kissed her lightly on the lips.

Cries of outrage and yells of "Prude!" were heard, so Snape grumbled and slipped her the tongue. Sinistra let out a muffled squeak as his colleagues hooped and hollered. He let go and left a stunned Sinistra looking frazzled and a deep red blush across her cheeks. She spun the bottle which eventually landed on O'Brien and kissed him like Snape had kissed her, just to please the drunken crowd. And on it went.

O'Brien kissed Pince, who kissed Flitwick, who kissed Hooch who kissed Trelawney, who kissed Hagrid, who kissed Vector, who kissed McGonagall, who kissed Dumbledore, who tried to kiss Binns, who tried to kiss Sprout, who kissed Potter whom-

-Landed on a very drunk Snape.

Ah, fuck it all. When Potter leaned in, Snape didn't even worry about any sort of consequences. Yay for liquid courage, his mind happily shouted.

It was nice. A little clumsy, but that was to be expected of a drunken kiss. Potter had a soft tongue that Snape had never felt before in anyone's mouth, and a technique that he had never experienced. Ok, so it tasted like alcohol and cigarettes- who cared? Because at that point in time, that was the sexiest smell and taste to Snape on the planet.

Alcohol and stale cigarettes. Oh, that reeked of sex.

The world seemed to slow down as Potter languid tongue danced in a sort of tango with his. Potter's hand came up to rest on his cheek and then to tuck a piece of Snape's hair behind his ear. Snape was just about to run his hands through all of Potter's ebony haired glory when Flitwick brought him out of their own little world with the words "Oy, Severus! It's your turn!"

Potter and Snape quickly parted, but not before Potter nipped at his lower lip. For one hot second, the world came to a complete stop as he looked into Snape's lust filled eyes with a promise of more. He didn't mouth a single thing, but Snape got the message.

I'll give you more tonight.

Tonight was going to be a good night, after all.

The world came into sharp focus again as Snape spun the bottle again. Dumbledore.

Then again, maybe not.

* * *

A/N I'll leave the smut part up to your dirty little imaginations. 


End file.
